


ReOrientation

by blueticked



Series: It Takes Two [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Amnesia, The Nether (Minecraft)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueticked/pseuds/blueticked
Summary: He stumbled out of the nether portal and collapsed. He doesn’t remember what happened in the other dimension.
Series: It Takes Two [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095086
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the nho for brainstorming this new world with me!

He stumbled out of the nether portal.

He staggered a few steps across the grass before collapsing, falling forward, his calloused hands barely reaching out to protect himself in time, barely having the strength to hold himself up. He gasped for air - there was something almost _lighthearted_ about the air here. Its eagerness to be breathed in by him made him choke, cough, curl up into himself as he hacked into the ground. The wind was soothing, however, cooling down the exposed burns on his skin. Once that was over, he pushed himself over, laying on his back and looking up at the sky.

The sky was blue. The colour caught him off-guard, made him do a double-take. Something bright shone down at him. He squinted, but he couldn’t look directly at it. It warmed him as he lay unmoving on the grass. Warmth. At least that was something comforting that he could depend on, wherever he was.

The sun disappeared, blocked by someone as they stood over him. The warmth was replaced by an utter _freeze_ as liquid was dumped on his head, chilling him to the bone, locking his arms by his side as he shuddered with the cold. The sudden temperature change was penetrating his skin. It was invading his mind. It was clawing up his eyes as they rolled upwards-

He was warm again. He could open his eyes again.

He inhaled deeply, shakily. Someone had treated and bandaged his burns; the cloth beneath his clothes wrapped tightly around his chest, restricting his breathing.

He was indoors, or rather, surrounded by walls that lacked a roof. A campfire was lit nearby, the scent of burning wood drifting past him. It reminded him of the scent of burning clothes. There was a sizzling sound, like a stick poking at and turning the charcoal over.

“He’s awake,” someone spoke from across the room, clear relief in their voice. He saw their shadow before he saw them, stretched out on the wooden floor in front of him, cast by the light of the campfire from behind. They stood straight, walked with firm footsteps, hands in their pockets as they approached. Dignified, silent, purposeful. They stopped next to his bed, just beyond his line of sight, but he needn’t have to worry about matching a face to the voice because they leaned down to look at him. It was a tall lanky man with wide, curious eyes and a moustache that twitched as he spoke.

“How do you feel?” the man asked.

“What a silly question, Mumbo,” someone else said, their voice drifting over from the direction of the fireplace. The person didn’t sounded angry, but amused. “Tango can’t be doing great after what happened in the Nether.”

Tango. That was his name. He was Tango. He had come out of the Nether, stumbled out of the nether portal. What had happened in the Nether?

“What…” he found himself attempting to ask. His voice emerged as a croak.

“Oh, let me get you some water,” Mumbo immediately stood up and darted out of Tango’s line of sight before jumping right back in, holding a glass of water. Kneeling next to the bed, he grasped Tango’s arm with his hand, guided him upwards into a sitting position on the bed. He held the rim at Tango’s mouth and tilted his head back slowly to sip the liquid.

_Water_ , Mumbo had called it. Tango didn’t know if he was just delirious and didn’t remember _water_ , or if he truly had never come across this refreshing liquid, cool and soothing down his dry throat.

“What… happened?” Tango tried to ask again. His throat was still dry and scratchy, but at least the words were whispery audible. Mumbo opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated and turned to look at the other person in the room.

Heavy footsteps approached. Mumbo stood up and made way for the other person, and a man suited head-to-toe in green armour came into view. His visor was tinted, but it was translucent enough for Tango to be able to see the man inside. He offered Tango a skewered cooked fish. Tango shook his head. The fish was then offered to Mumbo, who eyed it hungrily but shook his head in respect for the serious atmosphere around them. The man placed the fish on top of a chest and turned back to Tango.

“Xisuma,” he pointed at himself, “I was the one who reached out to you about Hermitcraft.”

“Hermitcraft?” Tango echoed, the word holding no meaning to him.

“Oh my… I shouldn’t have assumed that the injuries were just physical,” Xisuma sighed heavily and sat next to Tango on the bed. “Of course there would be more consequences than just that. You’re… you’re lucky to be alive, Tango.”

“You know the saying,” Mumbo perked up next to them, attempting to raise the heavy mood of the room. “Don’t die in the nether, or you’ll return a different man.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Tango told him.

“Oh,” Mumbo blinked at Tango. He cleared his throat and attempted to explain. “Y-you know that old myth? Of the first player who explored the nether? He didn’t come out for weeks. Everyone said he had exhausted his food supplies and died in the nether. But he emerged weeks later, and he wasn’t the same person. Spoke differently, acted differently. He couldn’t go back to his old life, so he left into the wild. It’s been a legend ever since: Don’t die in the nether. No one knows what happens in the nether, but whoever comes out looking like you, _isn’t you_.”

“Don’t scare him, Mumbo,” Xisuma placed a comforting hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango made it. He made it to us, and that’s all that matters. He’s safe here, now. No one’s going back to the nether anytime soon.”

“What happened?” Tango repeated. They hadn’t told him what happened to him yet; how he had become so badly injured and why his memories were so fuzzy, if not simply non-existent.

“We don’t know,” Xisuma spoke truthfully. “But when you came out of the portal, your hair was on fire, and I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to look at yourself in the water, but your eyes are now red. I don’t know if they’ll ever go back to normal. Too much exposure from the heat and the glow of the lava, I think.”

“You were probably minutes away from collapsing in the nether where no one would find you,” Mumbo added.

“Mumbo! Don’t say that!” Xisuma gasped, then turned back to Tango. “Whatever happened in the nether, it was horrible, and it’s normal for you to feel a little confused as you orientate yourself back in the overworld.”

“Where it’s _safe_ ,” Mumbo crossed his arms with a little huff. “Never go into the nether without your safety protection suit, Tango. I don’t know if you have those where you’re from, but here on Hermitcraft, we’ll make you one.”

“You shouldn’t go back into the nether for a long time, Tango, with or without a safety suit,” Xisuma advised. “It’ll take you a while to heal from your last exposure to the nether.”

“Okay,” Tango nodded, looking away from them and down to the ground. He was in no position to argue; he remembered nothing about the nether, and they seemed to know what they were talking about. Heck, he remembered nothing about _himself_ ; who he was, where he was from, and why he had trekked that dangerous journey all the way to this _Hermitcraft_.

“The other new hermits will be arriving in a week or so, including Impulse,” Xisuma stood up. Was Impulse someone he should know? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but no memories were stirred with the mention of that name. “You should rest till then. Mumbo can answer all your questions. I’ll be busy turning on and off nether portals for the new hermits around their estimated time of arrivals.”

“Don’t want to leave a nether portal active for too long; anything could come through,” Mumbo added the explanation for Tango.

“Hopefully, their journey through the nether will be safer than yours was,” Xisuma nodded and left.

Mumbo sat next to Tango on the bed, where Xisuma had sat. He reached out for the fish on the chest and offered it to Tango again. Tango shook his head, but angled his head at the glass of water that had been left on the chest as well. Mumbo passed the glass to him. It felt cool in his hands, the water within sloshing lightly.

“So… what is Hermitcraft?” Tango asked. He hoped it wasn’t a silly question. He supposed it was; he must have agreed to cross the nether to come _here_ because it was worth the journey.

Mumbo took a big bite of the fish before beginning to explain between muffled chews. Tango smiled, bringing the rim of the glass to his lips for another sip of water. He could probably ask Impulse the same question afterwards. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, of course, not an accurate representation of amnesia. This is probably as accurate as We Bare Bears S3 E43 'I am Ice Bear'.
> 
> "WHAT'S UP, BOYSSSSS!!!" _Punches Grizz_. **_The look of terror on their faces._**

Xisuma was busy preparing for the arrival of the new hermits, so Tango didn’t want to disturb him. Mumbo was meant to entertain him, but his responses to Tango’s questions often went in circles and skid off in a different direction. Tango enjoyed listening to Mumbo ramble; he enjoyed Mumbo’s company. It just didn’t help him understand who he was, where he was, and what he was doing here.

All he remembered of the Nether was what his healing injuries spelt out for him. Bruises; he had been struggling against something holding him back. Deep gashes; he had been attacked with a sword, or something with claws. Perhaps the sword was used for something else, like slashing away a heavy strapped bag slowing him down, since he had arrived at Hermitcraft with nothing. Burns; he had grazed the surface of his skin over flames or dipped below lava. Whatever he had fought, whoever he had fought, it had been relentless. Xisuma and Mumbo were right; he was lucky to have even escaped alive.

Who he was, was perhaps the greatest question. He hadn’t just forgotten what had happened in the Nether. He had forgotten what had happened before the Nether. Where had he come from? What did he do? He knew he had friends; Xisuma spoke of ‘Impulse’ as though Tango had been close to him, as though they had been invited to Hermitcraft together, or one after another. He didn’t know how Impulse looked like, how he had met Impulse, or better yet, why they had been invited to join Hermitcraft. No memories came back to him throughout the week. Maybe it was because Hermitcraft was a new place to him, and there wasn't anything here that could remind him of his past. All he could hope for was for Impulse’s arrival to bring with him a rush of Tango's memories.

The first two new hermits to arrive together were a half-creeper man and a man with spiky white hair.

Beside Tango, Mumbo went still. He stopped flapping his hands in his suit pockets. He stopped shifting his weight from foot to foot. He stood straight in formal attention, rapt and focused on the two individuals that had just arrived.

“Doc,” Xisuma shook the creeper man’s hand.

“Hello, Zisuma,” Doc replied.

“Etho,” Xisuma greeted the man with white hair.

“Hey,” and a head nod was Etho’s reply.

Doc and Etho surveyed the other hermits around the portal. Mumbo gave them a polite but overly enthusiastic wave. They were probably too far to notice the way Mumbo’s whole arm trembled in excitement. Doc lost interest rather quickly and turned to leave and start his own projects. Etho, however, had caught Tango’s eyes and stared at him for a long moment. Tango didn’t dare to look away.

One of Etho’s eyes was black and the other was red, the same red as Tango’s, with a dark scar carved from the base of his eyebrow, through his eye, and curled towards his nose, like a slashed claw across his face. Etho’s stare burned deep, as though he was seeking something out in Tango’s eyes, as though he had a jumble of thoughts racing through his mind.

“Why is he here?” Etho asked Xisuma, keeping his gaze firmly trained on Tango. His voice was not unkind, but it was sharp. “How did he get here?”

Xisuma, to his credit, seemed confused.

“That’s Tango,” Xisuma tried to introduce him. “He created the iron farm. He came here through the Nether, just like you did.”

Etho stared at Tango a moment longer before he finally broke eye contact and turned away, closing his eyes with the slow weight of an oncoming headache. Doc had stopped and turned back when Etho engaged in conversation, and now took Etho’s arm gently, guiding him away.

“Something happened to Tango in the Nether,” Etho urged Doc as they left, before they walked out of ear reach.

Had Etho been attacked in the Nether before, too? Did he know what had happened to Tango? Was that why he had frozen at the sight of Tango’s red eyes?

Tango didn’t have time to ponder, because the next hermit to arrive fizzled into existence at the Nether portal.

He wore a black tee with a bright yellow ‘i’ and cargo pants. He exited the portal with his arms spread wide, grinning, as though the life of the party had arrived. Perhaps it had; Tango couldn’t tell at a glance what this person’s character was. Mumbo turned to Tango and gave him a puzzled look. Tango stared right back at Mumbo, before realization dawned on him that Tango had no idea who this was.

“This is Impulse,” Mumbo leaned over and muttered in his ear.

“Ah,” Tango said.

There was no flood of memories. No immediate greeting that slipped past Tango’s lips. No secret friendship handshake that his muscles remembered.

Impulse turned to shake Xisuma’s hand, then went in a circle greeting and introducing himself to the hermits gathered around the portal. Mumbo stepped forward as it was his turn and shook Impulse’s hand.

“Hi, I’m Mumbo.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Impulse.”

Next it was Tango’s turn, and he raised his hand towards Impulse, only to be pulled into a warm hug instead.

Impulse released Tango and took a step away from him. He grinned at Tango and waited, as though expecting Tango to say something. When Tango continued to remain silent, Impulse punched his arm in mock anger, still grinning.

“Don’t act like you don’t know me,” Impulse declared. “Don’t think that your…” Impulse waved his hand at Tango, “... blonde dye and red contacts can fool me into thinking you’re not my best friend. I know you too well.”

Best friend? Well. Tango was in a bit of trouble here. How long had he known Impulse? Had his hair changed colour too? Xisuma hadn't mentioned that. Maybe Xisuma hadn't known what colour Tango's hair was originally. Bleached from falling in the lava, perhaps? Tango raised a hand up to touch his hair, which felt normal, felt like _hair_ , then let his hand fall back to his side.

“Hey,” Tango said, trying to sound casual, stuffing his hands into his pockets, a safe and polite acknowledgement of Impulse’s presence.

“I get a ‘hey’? Geez,” Impulse grumbled, trying to keep his voice light-hearted. His smile no longer reached his eyes as actual worry crept into his words. “I didn’t think that I would be included in your whole ‘new world, new you’ thing.”

Tango shrugged.

“What else is going to change?” Impulse asked, his voice hardening to hide the tremble beneath. Tango had a feeling Impulse was not a fan of the vagueness. “Going to be a builder instead of a redstoner? Going to live in the Nether instead?”

" _No!_ " Tango blurted out loudly at that suggestion, then took a step back at his own outburst.

Silence surrounded him. Tango stumbled further away from Impulse.

"Ex… excuse me," Tango muttered, and left the circle of hermits for his makeshift room instead.

His front door opened and closed.

“Tango?”

It was Impulse. Tango turned over in bed and tried to pretend that he was asleep.

Shuffling footsteps across the room. A stretch of silence.

“Don’t think I don’t know when you’re pretending to sleep,” Impulse said, his voice right next to the bed. He shoved Tango across half the bed. Tango grumbled and opened his eyes, sitting up against the pillow and pulling his legs to his chest so Impulse had space to sit at the end of the bed.

Impulse fell back into silence, sitting opposite Tango and observing him carefully. Tango looked away. He didn’t like the prolonged eye contact.

“Mumbo told me what happened,” Impulse finally spoke again. “I'm sorry, dude, for… bringing up the Nether. Snap, I said it again. I'm sorry for bringing _that place_ up. And for making a joke about the whole… red eyes, blonde hair thing. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of horrors you faced in there."

"Me too," Tango said with a laugh.

Another moment of silence from Impulse. He seemed to fall silent a lot when he was deep in thought.

"It's true, then? You don't remember anything?” Impulse asked, his voice softer than before. “You really don't know who I am?"

"I don't."

"Gosh, I…" Impulse shook his head and leaned back. "I can't imagine a world without you or Zed."

"Zed?"

"Zedaph," Impulse clarified. "We were on a world together, before being invited to Hermitcraft. Zedaph didn't want to come. He said, maybe next time." Impulse laughed sadly. "I would bring you back to see him, but-"

"Yeah. The Nether. I’m not going back in there," Tango finished. Impulse pressed his lips together and looked away. Tango wondered if it had been rude to interrupt. He must be acting completely out of character, different from the Tango that Impulse knew.

“Before you left,” Impulse began, “You said something about ‘new world, new you’. You were being half serious about it, but you hadn’t made up your mind. And then you left, and I stayed behind for a week to help Zed clean up our world before following you here. And when I reached Hermitcraft… well, I thought that was why you looked so different, at first.” Impulse laughed softly. “This crazy guy, Tango, decided to change his entire image for a new server. Zed and I - we wondered if you left so quickly because you actually didn’t want to be there with us anymore. When you pretended - well, I thought you pretended, at first - not to recognize me, I thought, that was it. We were right. Tango wanted to leave. We’re actually not friends anymore. Years and years of friendship, and-”

Impulse stopped talking abruptly. He swallowed, then inhaled a deep, shaky breath. Tango wondered if he should give Impulse a hug, but Impulse was already clearing his throat and moving on.

“I’m so relieved that wasn’t the case. Not to say that _this_ \- that losing your memory is better but- I’m really glad that we’re still friends.” Impulse looked up and gave Tango a strained smile. “We’re still friends, right?” His voice rose in a question.

“We can’t be friends if I don’t know anything about you. Or myself,” Tango grinned, hoping to relieve Impulse’s tension. "Tell me about me," Tango prompted. "Tell me about you."

Impulse relaxed, his smile growing genuine.

“You’re the iron titan,” Impulse told him. “You invented the most efficient iron farm ever, a complete game changer. That’s how you were invited to Hermitcraft, with legends like _Doc_ , and _Etho_ ,” Impulse said, a wonder in his voice echoing Mumbo’s awe from before. Tango wondered what they invented.

“I invented the iron farm?” Tango laughed good-naturedly. “And now I can’t remember how to make that anymore.”

“I’ll show you,” Impulse jumped to his feet, then pressed his hands to his pockets. “I don’t have any redstone yet.”

“Redstone?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot what _redstone_ is.”

“Maybe.”

“Tango!” Impulse gasped in shock. He began to gesture wildly. “This is serious! I… should I call Xisuma? Redstone is _life_! It’s like _air_! You can’t live without it! How are you going to invent more things if you don’t remember _redstone_? How are you going to-”

“Sit down, Impy,” Tango laughed, the nickname rolling naturally off his tongue.

Impulse sat down slowly, a smile tugging the corners of his lips again.

“You remember me!” He declared. “You’ll remember! Everything will come back to you!”

Tango thought it was better not to tell Impulse that he still remembered nothing at all.

“Yeah,” Tango said instead, and let Impulse pull him into a relieved hug.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC in the next story of this series! :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a new series that I hope will have alternating monthly updates with my other series, Out Of Moonlight.
> 
> Let me know what you thought?


End file.
